


purple asters

by avid_author_activist



Series: Ranger's Apprentice Drabbles [3]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: F/M, jesper being his usual self, thorn being his usual self too but also softer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avid_author_activist/pseuds/avid_author_activist
Summary: a tumblr drabble inspired by the prompt "flowery"





	purple asters

“Why the hell would I know where to find flowers in Hallasholm, old man?” Lydia looked up from sharpening her dirk, a glower on her face.

Thorn raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I mean—I, well, I just—”

“Care to finish that sentence?” She cast a meaningful glance at the dirk, and the old sea wolf shook his head emphatically. “Of course you wouldn’t.” Lydia smiled and reached for her whetstone again. A thoughtful look crossed her face. “But if I were you, I’d go ask Jesper. He knows this town like the back of his hand.”

“I’ll do that.” Thorn turned and hurried down the main road towards the square. It was a market day, and like any self-respecting thief, Jesper was bound to be there. Maybe, Thorn thought with more than a little satisfaction, he would finally be able to catch him in the act of stealing.

As it turned out, he didn’t find Jesper. Jesper found him, and suddenly Thorn was short his saxe knife and belt before he realized what had happened. “Thorgun’s breeches!” he bellowed, leaping towards Jesper.

Jesper jumped out of reach and gingerly held out the belt for Thorn to retrieve. “It was just a joke! I always return what I steal!” he said hastily.

Thorn harrumphed and snatched it back, nearly yanking Jesper forwards as he did so. “And the knife.”

“I don’t know if that’s a wise idea.” Jesper backed up another pace.

“I don’t know if it’s a wise idea to _not_ give it back.” Thorn smiled at him, but it was a smile devoid of any good humor.

Jesper decided it would be in his best interest to return the knife.

He handed it very carefully to Thorn and waited for him to sheathe it before asking, “So, why are you here?”

“I can’t come to the market just because I want to?” Thorn challenged. “What if I’m picking up groceries for my great aunt Winfredia?” “

I didn’t know you and Svengal had the same aunt.”

“Of course we do,” he said indignantly. “I’ve been told the family resemblance is uncanny.”

“Oh, my mistake. You do have the same eyes,” Jesper deadpanned. He turned and began to walk away. “Well, I won’t keep you from your errands. See you around!”

Thorn watched his retreating back in an agony of indecision. Pride battled logic, and logic won. “Wait!” he said explosively, before he could stop himself. “There actually is something…”

Jesper paused, turning around to look back at him. “What was that?”

The old sea wolf cleared his throat. “I’m going to need your help,” he said.

“With?” Jesper assumed what he clearly thought was an angelic expression. He was having a little too much fun drawing this out, but it was a rare occurrence he had the upper hand in verbal byplay with Thorn, and he was determined to savor every moment of it.

“I’m having dinner with Karina tonight at her eating house and I’m wondering if you knew where to find flowers.” Thorn forced the words out in a rush, his eyes fixed resolutely on a point two meters above Jesper’s head.

To his credit, Jesper didn’t tease; he only frowned, as if deep in thought. “You want flowers.”

“Yes.”

“In autumn. In Skandia.”

“I… yes.” There was a beat of awkward silence.

“I… _suppose_,” Jesper said, “that I might know a place, but my memory might be better jogged by a... _favor_ of sorts.”

Thorn cursed under his breath. He could see where this was going. “Like?” he asked grudgingly.

“Ingvar does seem to enjoy picking me up and crushing the life out of me. Even when I’m not being that annoying.” Jesper adopted the angelic expression again. He clasped both his hands in front of him, then wondered if that might be a bit much and unclasped them again. “It would be nice—no, _really nice_—if—”

“Next time Ingvar tries to throw you overboard, I’ll intervene,” said Thorn in a long-suffering tone of voice. “Take it or leave it.”

“Done,” Jesper said, who was honestly surprised he’d gotten anything out of the exchange at all. “Now, if you’ll kindly follow me, I’ll get you to your patch of flowers.”

On the eastern edge of town was a large plot of cleared land, meant for use as communal gardens for the people of Hallasholm in exchange for a (commonly evaded) fee to the Oberjarl. It was fenced off, but the wooden posts were sagging and not doing a great job of being a fence in general. Jesper stepped over it almost contemptuously and gestured for Thorn to do the same.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” the old sea wolf asked, still some paces away by the treeline. He bent double, covering the rest of the open space in a running crouch.

Jesper snorted. Thorn might be good at _silent_ movement, but he was still a novice to the school of _unseen_ movement. “Relax,” he said. “We’re not taking from the plots. I just didn’t want to walk all the way around them.”

He led the way to the far end of the cleared land, where wild growth from the plains was beginning to creep up to the fence. His eyes darted this way and that, scanning the ground for familiar landmarks: a large stone, a tilted fencepost. “There!” he said triumphantly, pointing at a clump of asters, the last of the season, bright purple against the long amber grass.

Thorn scrutinized them for a long moment, trying not to appear terribly impressed. “They’ll do,” he said finally.

“You’re welcome,” said Jesper, miming an over-exaggerated bow. “I hope Karina likes them,” he added more sincerely.

The old sea wolf plucked one of the blooms and cupped it in his hand, marvelling at the brilliant color against the dull browns of the Skandian mid-autumn. “I hope so too,” he said. “I hope so too.”


End file.
